


Hair Care

by Lovedmoviesb



Series: The Rookie and Her Captain [5]
Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-01 00:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20456387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovedmoviesb/pseuds/Lovedmoviesb
Summary: Ginny doesn’t want to be the backup parent. But when it comes to her daughters’ hair, she rides the bench.





	Hair Care

**Author's Note:**

> The Bawson kids are named for Jackie Robinson, Toni Stone, and Mamie “Peanut” Johnson, trailblazers in baseball. Robinson was the first Black player in the MLB, Toni was the first female to play in the Negro Leagues, and Peanut was the first female pitcher in the Negro League.

Robin was seated on the floor of the living room when Ginny came home, dutifully still as her father worked on her hair. Genetics had blessed her with what seemed like four times the amount of hair of most folks, dark and kinky and voluminous. Ginny had done her best on more than one occasion to wrangle those tresses into some kind of presentable style. It was like wrestling an octopus, a symphony of tears and tantrums. But now, the 6-year-old sat unmoving, her dark, almond-shaped eyes on the television in front of her. She was propped up against the bulk of her father’s legs, perfectly content. 

“Hi mommy,” she greeted, looking away from the movie on television for just a moment to smile at Ginny. She returned her attention to the screen. 

“What are you doing?” Ginny asked, her voice unnaturally high, the tone she used only for her children. 

From his place on the couch, Mike smiled, looking up from his work to greet her. “We’re watching your favorite, baby,” he said, winking for good measure. All the while, his fingers never faltered in their rhythm, executing a neat row of cornrows flawlessly. 

“They’re about to meet the Beast,” Robin told her mom with a gapped-tooth grin. 

Toni, better known to her father as Skippy, climbed down unsteadily from the cushions. Barely more than a toddler, Skippy moved with all the brazen confidence she inherited from Mike. 

“I don’t like this part,” she announced, hiding her face in the fabric of Ginny’s leggings. “The puppy gets hurt.”

Ginny bent down to pick her up. “He’s ok,” she assured her youngest. 

“The Beast isn’t a puppy,” Robin pointed out, eyes unmoving from the screen. 

“Be nice,” Mike chided, tying off the ends of one braid. He lifted a fishtail comb, meticulously parting Robin’s hair in a swirling pattern. Ginny took a moment to watch, shocked. 

“You’re braiding?” she asked, marveling when Robin offered no protest. 

Mike nodded absently. “Gotta do protective styles, Gin.”

“Look at mine, mommy,” Toni thrust her head in her mother’s eyeline. Each neat row of little round puffs was cuffed in a miniature gold bangle. 

“Skippy’s high maintenance,” Mike joked. “She likes her bling. Robin here wanted braids like Serena.”

“She saw them on the internet?” Ginny asked. 

“Yup,” Mike popped the syllable, starting in on another braid. “We were looking for fun things to try on the computer. Went to the store to pick out accessories and everything.” He tilted his chin in the direction of the couch cushions. They’d apparently cleared out a drugstore’s worth of hair supplies and decided to balance them all on the leather seats. 

“Shh…” Robin held a finger to her lips, leaning towards the TV. 

“Hey now,” Mike paused. “Do you want them to look good?”

Ginny braced herself for the inevitable pouting or tantrum. It never came. Instead, Robin leaned back, straightening up. Her dad continued with her hair. 

“Do you like it?” Skippy prompted, looking expectantly at Ginny. 

“I love it,” Ginny assured her, kissing her round little nose. 

“You should let daddy do your hair, mommy,” she suggested, looking critically at Ginny’s sloppy low bun. 

“Maybe,” Ginny conceded, doing her best to ignore Mike’s smug grin. She sat beside him, Toni on her lap, watching her eldest. 

“How are you doing that?” she asked Mike lowly. 

“The braid?” he cocked a brow. “It’s pretty simple. If the part is good and the hair is detangled--”

“No,” Ginny interrupted. “Getting her to sit still.”

Mike blinked in surprise. “She always sits still,” he said. 

“She does not,’ Ginny protested. “Not for me.”

“You pull too hard,” Robin piped up. “Daddy is better.”

Mike’s smirk grew. Ginny scowled. 

“You don’t like when I do your hair?” she asked Robin. 

The girl kept silent. 

“What about you, Skip?” Ginny bounced their 3-year-old. “Mommy does your hair pretty, right?”

Toni shook her head. 

Ginny gasped, aghast. “Well, Mommy must do some things nice,” she challenged. “You like when we go shopping, right?”

“Daddy lets us try on more things,” Robin imparted. 

“Ok…” Ginny tried again, sensing Mike’s ego swelling beside her. “Mommy’s good at baking, right?”

“Your cookies are nice,” Robin tried. 

“They’re not as good as Daddy’s,” Toni said. 

Mike laughed aloud. Ginny scowled at him. 

“Mommy’s good at plenty,” he quickly sought to mend the situation. “She’s the fastest runner.”

“You throw good too,” Toni piped up. “And it’s fun to go to work with you. Daddy doesn’t go to work.”

“He used to,” Robin turned around as Mike fished for another rubber band. “They had the same job.”

“Oh,” Toni considered this. “Was Daddy as good as Mommy?”

“How would you know, Robin?” Mike joked. “You weren’t around yet.”

“Your daddy was dragging his feet,” Ginny explained. 

Mike scoffed. “Me?” he shook his head. “Who was it who was scared about--”

“Anyway,” Ginny interrupted. “Daddy was very good. Before he got old.”

Mike glared. Their daughters were unfazed. 

“Did you play against each other?” Toni asked. 

“They were on the same team,” Robin turned back to the movie. 

“I bet Daddy was really good,” Skippy sighed dreamily, climbing out of her mother’s lap to cram herself into the narrow space between both of her parents. 

Ginny sat amidst her family, mouth open. “I guess I know who the favorite is,” she mused. 

Mike kissed her on the cheek, his beard scratching at her skin. “Here baby,” he nudged a clear container over to her. “I’ll show you how to do the beads.”

It took twice as long then if Mike had done it alone, but eventually, both girls had their hair successfully finished. They ran the gauntlet of bath time and bedtime stories, tucking both girls away safely beneath the covers. It wasn’t until they retreated to the sanctuary of their own room that Ginny voiced her concerns. 

“Am I a bad mom?” she asked, toothbrush in hand.

Mike paused what he was doing, looking at her hard from the other side of the bed, a t-shirt handing lose in his hand. 

“Gin, no,” he sounded genuinely shocked. “You’re bad at hair,” he said. “But a bad mom?” He shook his head, as though the thought was incomprehensible to him. 

Ginny did not relent, the misgivings bouncing around in her mind. “They like everything you do better than what I do,” she was pouting, throwing a tantrum tantamount to the ones Robin worked herself into. Still, the thought stung. “Maybe I’m gone too much.” She dipped into the bathroom, spitting and tucking her toothbrush away. When she returned to the bedroom, her husband was crossing the room with purpose. 

Mike walked towards her, tossing the shirt onto their bed in lieu of pulling Ginny into a hug. She curled into his embrace, feeling like half a child, memories of the early days of their friendship, their time playing ball together, filling her mind. 

“Rook, I’m not going to lie to you,” Mike used her old nickname, a habit he couldn’t drop even after retirement. “You suck at the girls’ hair.”

“Mike--” she began. 

“But,” he cut her off, hugging her tighter. “All the girls talk about when you’re gone is you. Do you know why we watched videos of Serena Williams?”

Ginny shook her head, wrapping her arms around his waist. Mike was always warm, bulky, her safe place. When the press got bad, when the league embroiled her in politics, when fans got overbearing or far too critical, this was where she could be found, pressed against the man who was her rock. 

“They wanted to see who inspired Mommy,” Mike told her. “We watched your rookie year highlights, your first no-hitter--”

“That was your last game,” Ginny’s throat felt tight. 

Mike tightened his arms around her, kissing her forehead. “It was,” he agreed. “They watched you at the ESPYs, watched you win your award.”

“They did?” Ginny’s voice was little more than a squeak. 

Mike pushed her hair back, laying his head against hers. “They did,” he confirmed. 

Ginny craned onto her toes, wrapping her arms around Mike’s neck. “I’m sorry,” she began. 

“Don’t be,” he assured her. “They miss you when you’re gone, Gin. We all do.”

“I miss you too,” she affirmed. “The season is almost over. Then I’ll be home.”

“After playoffs,” Mike shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. 

Ginny laughed. “You really think so? The Yankees are going to be hard to beat--”

“You’ll beat them,” Mike sounded completely sure. “And we’ll be there watching.” He tugged her hair, his fingers tangling in the damp tresses. A thought occurred to Ginny. 

“Baby, can you do me a favor?” she asked. 

“Sure,” Mike blinked in surprise. “What is it?”

Ginny grinned, tugging her hair down. 

Two days later, Ginny took to the field at Petco Park, her cleats kicking up dirt behind her as she made her way to the mound. The stadium was packed to bursting, a sea of Padres and Yankees fans alike, all cheering raucously. Their voices were just a buzz in Ginny’s ears. She scanned the audience, looking behind the plate for a familiar face. 

Mike waved back at her, popping his gum. He was in her number, his habit since retiring, his Padres hat drawn low over his eyes. Robin and Toni flanked him, grinning brightly, their hair both decorated in Padres’ colors. They too waved, cheering loudly and blowing kisses. 

Ginny smiled, tugging at her own braids, immaculately constructed by Mike. She took the mound, her eyes still on him. Mike winked at her, offering a thumbs up. 

Smirking, Ginny watched as the first Yankee took home plate. With a deep breath, she wound up, ready to secure the Padres place in the Playoffs.


End file.
